Thank you so much for all the kind reviews on my previous one-shot. I was blown away by your response and also somehow comforted in the knowledge that I'm not the only one still mad as hell over what happened months ago.

There was a little, random moment involving Sharon's skirt and stockings in that fic, over which escapewithstories totally flailed despite my perfectly innocent intentions. Being the good friend that I am (ha!), I let her talk me into writing this one-shot featuring Sharon's stockings and legs prominently, this time with a little less innocent intentions.

As always, she's given this a proper once over, catching some of my horrible editing fails, but should you find any more, know they are mine alone. Oh, the title is totally hers though!

Have fun!

DRESSING SHENANIGANS - CHAPTER ONE

Andy stood in the doorway to their bedroom, a shoulder leaning against the frame as Sharon hurried around the room getting changed. They were meeting his daughter and son-in-law for his grandchildren's school play, but a meeting with the chief had dragged on that afternoon, and now Sharon was behind schedule while Andy had been long ready for them to get underway. He had tried telling her she looked great despite having spent a good fourteen hours in her current clothes, but she had no intention of meeting their grandkids in clothing that even figuratively reeked of the suspects that had crossed their murder room that day. She would forgo the shower and her earlier plans of doing up her hair a little, but on this she would not budge. So Andy, smartly, stopped trying to convince her otherwise.

If the clipped manner in which she untucked the blouse from her skirt wasn't enough of a sign of her annoyance with their boss, then her low muttered rant as she did so certainly was. "...and what little overtime we do manage to save on, he then eats up by keeping us in budget meetings well after we were supposed to clock out." She didn't bother undoing the buttons of her blouse, just pulled the material over her head, then stopped to look at Andy incredulously. "Honestly, those meetings alone probably cost the department hundreds of thousands of dollars."

She did not pause to hear Andy's response, but threw her blouse onto her previously discarded jacket. Although if she did, she would not get one, for Andy's attention was elsewhere. As if her rare, annoyed tantrum wasn't distracting, and amusing, enough, she was throwing one while casually undressing in front of him. Her words only faintly echoed in his mind, for he was much more focused on the lacy, beige material covering her bosom. He didn't even know that was the only thing underneath her blouse.

She proceeded to shimmy out of her skirt, revealing skin colored pantyhose that adorned her perfectly toned legs, and panties that matched the rest of her underwear, all the while continuing her unexpected tirade. Andy grinned unconsciously, thinking back to the first time she had, with his eager assistance, undressed in front of him. Sharon had been nervously excited, as was he, but not exactly shy, and her confidence only grew the longer he drooled over the new skin she exposed with every movement, not minding the few, age-induced imperfections in the least. It had been an evening that would forever be etched into his memory in vivid detail. The first time he saw all of her bare skin, the first time he traced his hands over it, the little moans and gasps he elicited when he happened to stumble upon a particularly sensitive spot, his excitement when he finally felt the shapely legs that he had until then only been allowed to admire from afar, the pure ecstasy that came over him when they wrapped around him in the throes of passion... To think that this, and so many other parts of her life, used to be so carefully guarded, veiled in the excuses of professional distance and old emotional wounds, and that he was not just privy to them now, but genuinely welcome in them, just widened the besotted smile on his face. He felt like the luckiest guy on the planet.

"What?" Her rant was stopped abruptly and she braced her hands on her bare hips, eyeing Andy suspiciously, his reverie broken.

He didn't even notice that his heart rate had sped up. Only when he pushed off the doorframe at her sharp question did the blood suddenly rush to his head, making him momentarily light-headed. Not letting any of that on, however, he grinned again. "I like you all riled up," he paused, his grin morphing into a smirk, "and half-naked." In fact, if he were the giggling type, he would very much giggle over her current intimidating, but barely clothed, stance.

Sharon's mouth formed a surprised 'o', and she looked down at herself, her eyebrows lifting. "Of course you do," she said, some of her earlier agitation still tainting her voice, but a smile appearing on her face nonetheless.

"And it isn't even my fault," he added, chuckling.

Sharon gave him a disgusted look. "No, it's Chief Taylor's," she told him pointedly.

Andy grimaced. That was a mood killer if he ever heard of one, but he turned it around on a joke, closing the door and stepping fully into the room. "Might have to send him a thank you note then."

Her eyebrows drew together in disbelieving amusement before a snort escaped her. "Oh, god no," she added, hiding her face in the palm of her hands.

He approached her and grabbed her wrists, gently prying them away from her face. He was done talking about Taylor, and in their bedroom of all places. "You better hurry up and change," he trailed his eyes lustfully over her barely covered form, "or we'll never make it to the school."

Her earlier rushed mood suddenly evaporated. Her wrists still in Andy's clutches, she clasped his face, leaning forward at a tantalizing pace. Her words were a hot breath against his lips as she threatened, "If we don't make it to the school on time, you can kiss seeing me in any state of undress goodbye for the foreseeable future." Her whispered threat past her lips, she closed what little gap was left between them, and kissed him.

He swallowed when she pulled back, and when he noted the devious smile on her lips, he asked, "You going to give up the skirts, too?" He'd survive just about anything, but not being denied sight of those gorgeous legs of hers.

A corner of her lip quirked upwards. "If you give me enough reason to," she pecked his mouth just to taunt him further, "then most definitely."

Message received, his hands suddenly landed on her hips and he turned her toward the closet. "Hurry up!" Nudging her into that direction, he added, exaggerating the impatience in his voice, "We don't have all day, lady!"

She laughed, intent on heeding his command, but halfway through her first step, she came to a halt instead, and slowly started pushing down her pantyhose. She smiled to herself when Andy groaned, but the rest of her movement wasn't nearly as sensuous as she wanted it to be, because she felt a painful pop along her spine as she bent down, and hearing it, Andy's groan turned into a low, rumbling chuckle. His hands found her waist, mostly because he was itching to touch her, but also because he wanted to support her as she slipped the rest of her hose off. Once she did, he pressed a kiss into her bare shoulder and mumbled soothingly, "Young at heart, my dear."

She smacked his hands away, mock offended, but pecked his cheek in thanks before finally heading to the closet. When she re-emerged, she had only put on a white camisole, while the rest of her outfit was picked out and draped over her arms. He stared at her bare legs, a hand shooting up to tug at his earlobe without even being aware of it. She walked past him to put her clothes down on the bed, smirking, and bumped into his arm on purpose, making him lose hold of his ear. Ignoring his resulting grunt, smiling suggestively, she offered, "You could help me get dressed."

"Now there's a new sort of punishment," he muttered good naturedly, but walked over to her, more than eager to get his hands on her even if to cover up her skin instead of doing the opposite.

She laughed and held out the fresh blouse that matched the blue hue of his tie. When he took it, she spread her arms out invitingly.

His eyes lingered on her chest for a few moments, and then on an exaggerated sigh of resignation, he held it open so she could slip her arm into one of the sleeves. She smiled at his antics, but he caught her little intake of breath, when, once her other arm found its sleeve, he moved to button up the blouse. On purpose, he had brushed his hands against her breasts and grinned smugly at her reaction. He smoothed down the material, and slowly started working his way up the line of buttons. When he reached the top two, he paused, hooking his index finger underneath the last closed button. "Open or closed?"

She smiled in amusement at the obvious answer clearly written on his face, but removed his hand and closed one more button in answer.

He tsked at her, shaking his head, but mumbled, "Fine."

She giggled.

"This won't do," he suddenly grumbled, reaching for the pair of black pants she had chosen for the occasion.

"What do you mean, this w-" Sharon's confused question was cut short because he turned around and went into their closet. "Andy," she raised her voice at him, exasperated, "we don't have time for this!"

She received no response, but a few seconds later he was back, triumphantly showing off a skirt, black like the pants he had deemed unfit. "Much better," he said, but only dropped the skirt on the bed, before walking over to the chest of drawers instead to Sharon. He rubbed a finger against his chin contemplatively as he opened her drawer and mumbled to himself rather than her, "Now, I just need…" He trailed off as he started digging through her things, then let out a "This!" as he produced a clean pair of stockings and turned around to show them to her.

She snorted at his self-assured expression. "I can't wear those." She waved a hand at him, her protest half-hearted. "Not without-"

Andy interrupted on a shit-eating grin. "I know," he said in a low, but excited tone, even wiggling an eyebrow at her.

"Andy, we'll be," she started, the prevailing amusement in her voice rendering her protest moot. She never finished her sentence either, for she couldn't help the giggle that burst out of her when he just ignored her and eagerly dug into her drawer again.

"Aha!" he let out victoriously, turning around, a garter set dangling between his clasped fingers.

She sighed and looked at him over a tilt of her head. "Really?" she said, already knowing she would be indulging him, even if she didn't find the garments to be too convenient ones.

"Really," he confirmed on an unconcerned shrug, looking into her drawer once more and pulling out a matching pair of panties, before walking back to her. At her eyebrow raised in intrigue, he said humorously, but chidingly, "Get your mind out of the gutter." He unfolded the stockings and draped them, along with the garter set, over his shoulder, then hooked his thumbs into the elastic band of the underwear he held, stretching it a little as if inspecting it. "You'll want to wear these over the garter, won't you?"

She was used to his attention to detail, it came in very handy in their line of business, but she sometimes forgot how utterly she adored that trait of his in their private lives. She smiled softly, her playful mood somewhat subdued, and ran a hand lovingly through his hair when he reached her. "I will," she agreed.

He flashed an equally soft smile in return, but shook his head. "Watch the hair."

She instantly laughed, but released his hair.

He exchanged the panties for the garter set on his shoulder, then tucked a finger into the band of the ones she had on, and tugged on them. "Off with those."

She laughed, but did as instructed. Supporting herself against his shoulder as she did so, she lightly dug her fingers into it and said, the words more of an observation than a complaint, "You're being awfully bossy," she dropped her panties to the growing pile of discarded clothes, then finished her sentence on, "Mister."

He crouched down, wordlessly offering for her to step into the garter. When she did, he took his sweet time dragging the material up her legs. When they were eye to eye again, and his hands were placed securely at her hips, he asked, "You got a problem with that?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, most days she did, as he very well knew. Today, however, he also knew just how to distract her from further grumbling about it. He pressed his fingers into her hips, pulling her closer, then slanted his lips over hers. When on a little hum, she responded, relaxing against his hold, he pulled back and smirked. "Yeah, didn't think so."

She stepped out of his reach. "Yeah," she mock-repeated, "I think I'll be wearing something else then." With that, she hooked her thumbs into the elastic at her hips and started taking it off.

"Ah-uh," he caught her wrist, stopping her with no protest from her, "and miss out on the best part?" He put his free hand over his stocking covered shoulder and wagged his eyebrows meaningfully at her.

"Best part my-" Her sentence was cut off with a little gasp, when Andy nudged her to sit down on the bed.

When she glared at him, seeing no real intent to admonish him, he grinned, rather smug about her almost falling into his blunt vocabulary. "Now," he announced, shuffling down to his knees. "Where was I?" he asked rhetorically, grabbing one of the stockings off his shoulder with one hand, and one of her feet with the other.

The man did love her legs. He knew how to worship them, too. He bunched up the stocking, but ran his hand purposefully and slowly down her calf before ever placing the material over her toes. He liked how smooth her skin was, appreciated the effort she put into keeping it that way for his benefit only. He loved how her toes curled at his touch, and he absolutely adored looking up into her face and finding her mouth slightly agape, a look of not lust, but concentration on it, as she waited for his fingers to reach her ankle. When he did, she relaxed a little, being less sensitive there. As he finally started to pull the thin material over her foot and ankle, he smirked when that look returned to her face when his hands touched her calf again. He chuckled smugly, when he brushed his fingers against the back of her knees, and being slightly ticklish there, made her squirm a little, forcing her to support herself on splayed hands behind her. He watched her carefully as he dragged the material halfway up her thigh and ran his thumbs over the edges once it wouldn't go any farther up. She maintained eye contact, her face remaining impassive just to spite him, but he saw the way her jaw tightened ever so slightly, and the goosebumps erupting over her skin only betrayed her further. His eyebrow quirking cheekily, he repeated the process with her other leg, her responses almost identical, and once done, he wrapped his hands around her feet. "Gorgeous," he told her, placing a feather light kiss to the side of her knee.

She pressed her knees together, but smiled. Wiggling her feet free of his grasp, she said, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He scoffed. "Couldn't even if I wanted to." He gave her another kiss, then ran his hands up her legs again in search of the straps that hung loosely at the sides of her thighs.

His touch was gentle, but torturous, each brush of his fingertips seemingly burning into her skin. He attached all straps to her stockings at a painstakingly sedate pace they both knew would not help them get to the school any quicker, but neither were sensible enough to worry about just then.

Once done, his hands lingered at the top of her stockings, his thumbs stroking the inside of her thighs, and he met her eyes with a teasing smile on his face. "I wouldn't mind forgoing the panties."

Outraged by even the thought she laughed, then stilled his hands to meet his look with a narrow-eyed one of her own. "Not happening. Now," she squeezed his hands, "get up."

Grumbling half-heartedly at best, he brushed his thumbs against her skin once more just to have the metaphorical last say, then got to his feet. When she heard pops not dissimilar to the one that had plagued her a few minutes ago, she laughed at him, and patting his arm patronizingly, parroted back his earlier words. "Young at heart, my dear."

His lip curled, and he mock scowled at her, but he offered her a hand to get up as well. When she did, he took a step back, all but leering at her as she lifted one, then the other leg against the side of the bed to adjust the straps at her thighs. He couldn't contain his groan when she was done and smoothed down her stockings. "You're killing me, Sharon."

She smiled coyly, then reached into his jacket to wrap a hand around his suspender. Tugging on it, she pulled herself to him. Snapping the band back against his abdomen, she lowered her voice and said, "And to think we match perfectly like this…"

For a moment, his eyes widened. Then, exaggerating another groan by tilting his head back, he repeated, "Seriously, killing me!"

She laughed, tugging at his suspenders once more just for good measure, before grabbing her panties off him. When she slipped them on, she quickly checked on her garter straps, then turned towards the bed, and asked, "Now, where's my skirt?"

His hand wrapped around her wrist before she could do more than curl her fingers underneath it. When she relented and wiggled her fingers in a 'by all means' gesture, he smiled, stepping around her to pick it up. He crouched down slightly, allowing her to step in, then took his time pulling it up just like he did with her garter belt. Once securely around her hips, he didn't let her step away, but slipped a hand into the open zipper at her side. He grabbed the covered flesh possessively, but this time it was her turn to wrap a hand around his wrist.

Pointedly, she stepped back until his hand slipped away. "Enough play," she said, quickly pulling the zipper up, then turning on her heel and heading to the bathroom to check on her hair and makeup.

He wasn't too discouraged, but grabbed the shoes she'd discarded at the foot of the bed and with an added spring to his step, followed her into the bathroom. He found her reapplying her lipstick. She was most likely going to kill him when he ruined it again, but he decided he would most definitely do so before they left the condo.

The thought must have been noticeable on his face, because Sharon paused and glared at him warningly through the mirror. "Don't even think about it. We'll just be late."

He lifted his hands defensively, looking ridiculous with one of her heels hanging off each thumb and making her suppress a laugh. "I wouldn't dream of it," he lied.

She hummed sarcastically, shooting him another glare before returning to her lipstick.

Andy remained in the doorway, his eyes lingering on her behind whenever she leaned forward in the mirror. He realized something as he did so. Tilting his head at her, or rather her blouse, he shared the thought with her. "I'll have to properly tuck that in, you know."

On a laugh, she said, "Of course you will." Her tone indicated he would be doing no such thing.

He merely shrugged, confident that he would indeed.

With a quiet smack of her lips and a final, delicate dab of her ring finger against the corner of her mouth, Sharon was done with her makeup. She walked toward Andy, intent on grabbing the heels that still hung off his hands, but he expertly escaped her reach, stepping back into the bedroom. "Mine," he said, clutching her footwear protectively against his chest.

A laugh bubbled out of her. "Oh, I really hope not."

"Ha-ha," he let out mockingly. "Come on," he waved a heel at the bed, "let me put them on."

At his poorly worded sentence, she only laughed a little more, but heeded his request and sat down on the bed. He went down on one knee and grabbed her wiggling feet, teasing her slightly ticklish soles before slipping on each heel. He again lingered on her calves a little before getting up and offering her a hand. "I'm not done yet," he informed her as he pulled her up.

"Really?" she asked, amused.

"Really," he confirmed, then before she could react, he tucked his fingers into the waistline of her skirt, and pulled her closer.

"Ah!" she let out, bracing herself against his arms. She laughed, remembering his observation back in the bathroom, then relented. "Tuck me in," she said, lifting her arms off her sides to give him more access.

He grinned. "Yes, Ma'am."

With rather meticulous care, he tucked her blouse in, then quite proudly flicked a hand at her, announcing, "There, perfect."

She adjusted her skirt a little, then smoothed it down her legs. Eyeing the clock, she smiled, relieved. "We'll make it on time, too."

Andy picked up the thin blazer she had opted for and opened it for her to shrug into. "We will," he agreed as she put it on. "And you look great," he added, pecking her on the lips quickly.

She wrapped a hand around his tie, giving him an appreciative once over. "As do you," she decided. His instant smile had her tug on his tie and lean up to kiss his cheek.

His smile only widened, but he checked his watch and tapped a finger over it. "We better get going."

She hummed in agreement, but lifted a hand to his face, using the pad of her thumb to rub off the lipstick smear she left on his cheek. There was something utterly magnetic about him just then, or perhaps she was still tingling from his earlier teasing attentions, but she found herself saying 'In a minute,' before palming his cheek and pressing her lips against his.

Late or not, Andy wasn't about to pass up on the opportunity. He wormed his arms underneath her blazer and locked his hands at her lower back, pulling her snug against him. He responded to her kiss hungrily and she let out a soft moan when his tongue passed the threshold of her lips. A low sound escaped him as well when her fingers tangled into his hair, and he forgot all about the fact that they were in a rush to get to his grandsons' school.

When his hands slipped lower, cupping her buttocks, she came to her senses a little, but only feebly pushed a hand against his chest, giving Andy room to ignore her. Only when they parted for air, panting slightly against each other, did she manage to whisper, "We have to go."

He wanted to say they could call it off, but he was excited about seeing his daughter and her two little boys. On a groan, he met her forehead with his, and reluctantly agreed. "We really do."

She lifted her head a little and kissed the corner of his mouth. "We'll continue when we get back."

He doubted they would, because those two kids could exhaust even people half their age, and they would probably just tumble into bed already half asleep once they returned home. Adding a bit of pressure against her behind, he held her closer, tucking his face into her neck for a moment longer. The evening would be all the more torturous knowing exactly what she was wearing the whole time. He breathed her in, then on a heavy exhale finally mumbled, "Yeah." Thinking back to their earlier topic of conversation, he realized who robbed them of these few delicious moments, and he pulled back to grumble, "I'm gonna kill Taylor."

Sharon instantly dissolved into giggles, her head falling to his chest as her shoulders shook.

He continued in his grumbling tone. "You laugh, but," he paused, knowing if his silence dragged on long enough she'd lift her head to look at him, and when she did, he pinned her with a smoldering look.

She laughed a little more, albeit not disagreeing, but sobered to brush her fingers against his lips. In a thin, apologetic tone, she said, "I got lipstick all over you."

He grinned, proudly eyeing the ruined lipstick on her lips. "Yes," he nodded, "yes, you did."

Her hand flew up to her mouth, understanding where his amusement was coming from. She rolled her eyes at him, no longer bothering cleaning the smudges on his lips, and walked into the bathroom again. "This is your fault," she informed him on the way.

Andy turned to follow. Clearing his throat, he said, "I believe you kissed me."

She merely narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head threateningly. Although he was technically right, she held him accountable for being so irresistible.

He laughed, and reached around her at the sink for a tissue. "I can't wait to tell Nicole why we're late," he said, wiping the smears off his mouth.

She scoffed, quickly reapplying her lipstick. "As if you would ever dare." Turning around, most definitely ready to leave now, she added, "Besides, we're not late yet."

Not letting Andy throw away his tissue, or really check his appearance one more time, she grabbed his hand and all but dragged him into the hallway and out of the condo.

They cut it close in the end, so close in fact, that Nicole and Dean weren't even able to inquire about their almost lateness because the play started.

Nicole, however, got her answer when her father tilted his head to whisper something into Sharon's ear. Whatever he said made Sharon shift in her seat, but what really drew Nicole's attention was the mussed up hair at the back of her father's head. Laughing quietly to herself, she wrapped her arms around Dean's arm and rested her head against it, earning herself a surprised, but pleased little smile from him, before returning her focus to their two boys appearing on stage.

She could only hope her married life remained as passionate as Sharon and her father's when she was their age.

THE END

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